


Take Care of Me

by deripmaver



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Communication, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom/sub, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Human Furniture, Kinky Smangst, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Muzzles, Nonverbal Communication, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Sub Victor Nikiforov, in more ways than one ;))), kinky smut and angst, to steal a tag from stammiviktor lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deripmaver/pseuds/deripmaver
Summary: Victor's struggling with some negative emotions, but becoming Yuuri's good, obedient puppy during puppy play might be just what he needs to work through them.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 13
Kudos: 180





	Take Care of Me

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't done this irl so excuse any inaccuracies. i just wanted vitya as a cute puppy boi, then all these ~feelings~ got mixed up in it. there isn't much communication during the actual bdsm, but this is all based on the in-fic premise that yuuri can take care of victor in puppy space without needing verbal requests, there's just so much trust and love between them. 
> 
> wish i coulda incorporated more belly rubs though UGH. maybe i'll write more like this later

Victor’s breath comes in soft, short puffs. His hands shake in anticipation, his body taut, sitting seiza on the floor right before Yuuri. Beautiful, sweet Yuuri, who is rustling around in a drawer with his back to Victor, the low, golden light glistening against his shower-damp skin. Victor wants to lick a wet stripe up that broad expanse of back, wants to taste his rippling muscles, the cut of his shoulder blades.

There’s a heavy taste in Victor’s mouth. Heavy and unpleasant, a prickling sensation buried under his skin. He feels an awful need to itch, to scratch, to claw the prickling feeling out – but he won’t. Yuuri told him to sit still, and he wants to be so good for Yuuri.

Victor can’t help the whine that falls from his lips as Yuuri continues to rummage around. His skin itches, crawls, and he needs Yuuri to make it go away.

“Now now, Victor,” Yuuri tuts, “We’re almost ready. You can be good just a little longer, right?”

Victor swallows down the whimper, but he nods. He bats his big blue eyes up at Yuuri, who’s turned his back to him again, and he follows the rippling muscles in his body, his back, his thighs. They move together in a glorious, fluid motion, undulating like a stream, every movement deliberate. Victor has a special fondness for Yuuri’s soft, off season body, but when he’s like this – calves and thighs as though cut from solid marble – he radiates a dominating strength and power that makes Victor’s mouth water.

“Ah hah,” Yuuri cheers, triumphant, and when Victor hears the familiar click of toys he feels the tension in his body begin to dissipate, feels the buzzing in his head begin to fade.

Yuuri dresses him up gently. He scratches the back of Victor’s head with short, clipped nails, and Victor whines and leans into the touch. It’s as though he’s forgotten how to speak, falling so easily into his role. Yuuri continues to scratch his scalp, sending tingles and tremors down Victor’s spine, gently nudging his hair out of the way to attach the puppy-ear headband.

He runs warm, delicate fingers down the hollow of Victor’s throat, buckling the collar around Victor’s neck, thumb caressing the pulsing artery. Victor swallows, and he feels Yuuri’s fingers shift with the motion of his throat.

Yuuri keeps touching him, running his hands along Victor’s trembling body, sliding on the puppy paw gloves, finally settling on the soft curve of Victor’s ass, squeezing it gently.

“You ready?” Yuuri breathes in his ear, fingers sliding ever closer to Victor’s twitching hole, and Victor whimpers and nuzzles into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. He nods, body taut, tense, the only sounds the wetness of Yuuri’s breath against his ear and the roar of blood in his ears.

He whimpers and clenches as he feels Yuuri’s lube-slick finger prodding against his sensitive rim, so Yuuri pauses, murmurs soft, soothing words to him in Japanese as he slowly wriggles his way inside. Victor loves when Yuuri speaks to him in Japanese during their play – he’s learning, but he doesn’t completely understand the language. It makes the immersion better, that he doesn’t know what Yuuri’s saying except for a few key commands.

His walls stretch, that familiar, intense ache, as Yuuri slides the plug inside of him. The soft faux-fur of the tail tickles his cheeks and the back of his thighs, and his hole clenches on the thick toy as Yuuri settles it inside of him, the slick sounds of lube and his clenching walls making him shiver with delight and anticipation.

When the plug on the tail is finally all the way inside of him, Victor slumps forward with a rattling breath, and Yuuri catches him and holds him up with strong, powerful arms, fingers coming up to jingle the little bell at the center of his collar. All of the tension, all of the anticipation, sinks out of him and into the floor, his head growing delightfully fuzzy and clear.

“You really needed this, didn’t you?” Yuuri murmurs.

Victor nods, a lump forming in his throat, and the collar bobs as he swallows thickly. Yuuri’s body is warm, his chest against his back, and each connecting point between their bare skin makes Victor tingle and buzz, but pleasantly this time.

The bad feeling rushes back, though. He doesn’t deserve this warmth, this comfort, not yet – he needs, he needs-

Victor doesn’t want to talk. He whimpers, turning to face Yuuri, and gestures to his mouth with his pawed hands, blinking desperately.

“Mm, want a kiss?” Yuuri guesses. He cups Victor’s cheek and brings their lips together for a soft, gentle peck.

Victor’s lips tingle where his and Yuuri’s meet. He shudders, feeling giddy, loved – but he shakes his head, this time placing his hand over his mouth for a second before taking it away. He whines, whimpering in a way that’s as close to a puppy’s as he can manage, wriggling his body desperately.

 _Puppies can’t talk_ , he thinks, what Yuuri likes to tease him with over and over again. Victor doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to be _Victor_. He wants Yuuri to comfort him and care for him and put all his needs in his capable, gentle hands.

Yuuri frowns. “You want the muzzle?”

Victor nods, wriggling his backside, feeling the plug shift inside him and the faux-fur tail swish. Yes! Yuuri is so good to him, he thinks, always knowing what he wants.

Yuuri hesitates, and suddenly the good feeling is gone. Did he make Yuuri upset? Victor whines again, more insistently, suddenly needing Yuuri’s hands petting him, needing Yuuri to tell him he loves him, that he can be good sometimes-

And there they are. Yuuri’s hands are on him immediately, scratching the base of his scalp, running softly through his hair. It sends pleasant, sweet chills down his spine, which Yuuri chases with delicate, fluttering fingers. He places his hands over the collar, over his pulse, and Victor feels his shoulders slump, his body sink again, as though he’s melting into the soft carpet beneath him.

“You haven’t been bad, though,” Yuuri murmurs, kissing Victor’s neck, softly. Victor whimpers. A part of him wants to just let Yuuri keep touching him like this, let Yuuri take this scene in any direction he feels is right, but – but he _aches_.

 _Please_ , Victor pleads, and he know how distraught he much look, so raw and _needing_. He needs Yuuri to take care of him in this way, he needs Yuuri to take him as a bad puppy and tell him he’s still worthy of love.

Yuuri smiles softly, though there’s still a crinkle of worry in his eyes. “Okay, puppy, okay.” His hand doesn’t leave Victor’s shoulder as he rustles around in the drawer to find the muzzle, rubbing soothing circles into his arm. “Do you want to be my bad boy today? Do you want me to punish you, to make you behave?”

Victor’s stomach seizes, and he shakes his head so fast the ears come loose from his head. He trembles, body curling into a guilty, cowering pout.

“Okay, okay, not that,” Yuuri reassures quickly, pressing a kiss to Victor’s cheek, readjusting his ears gently. “You need reassurance, don’t you, my little puppy? You’ve been a bad boy, but I still love you. I’m still proud of you. How’s that sound?”

Once again, Victor _melts_ at how well Yuuri knows him. He feels his eyes burn as he tears up a little bit, but he quickly blinks it away, wriggling with happiness at how gentle Yuuri’s hands are as he buckles the muzzle onto him, the way he accompanies it with even more gentle scratching, soft murmuring in Japanese. The fact that he can so easily slip into puppy-space, that after all this time, Yuuri barely needs any words from him, he can just sit back and let himself be taken care of.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and brushes his own hair back – it immediately flops back into place, but Victor knows that motion, knows that Yuuri is just settling himself into he scene. Yuuri’s pupils expand, his body goes taut, and his voice is just a bit deeper when he murmurs, “You have the muzzle on, don’t you, puppy? You know what that means.”

Victor droops. His whole body shrinks, and he blinks up at Yuuri sadly. Sometimes, Yuuri wears leather, or lingerie, or other sensual things to set the scene, but this was impromptu and today it’s just his bare skin. It makes everything feel more raw, and Victor nuzzles along Yuuri’s arm cautiously, blinking up at him, desperate for forgiveness, for approval. Yuuri slips so easily into this role, strict but loving, a little like Victor tries to be on the ice for him.

Those wonderful, soft hands are on his scalp again, and Victor shudders at the tingling sensation. Yuuri tilts Victor’s chin up, and his eyes are soft, his lips red as he licks them. Victor trembles at the sight of him, beautiful, powerful, chiseled edges and gentle touches.

“You’re not a bad puppy though,” Yuuri soothes him, “And I know you want to make it up, right? You want to show me that you’re still my good boy.”

Victor whimpers and nods. He gazes up at Yuuri with raw, naked desperation. He _needs_ to show Yuuri that he can make up for it, that he can be good again. Yuuri doesn’t know why Victor needs this, but he gives it to him regardless, and for that Victor will always give him his undying love and devotion.

Yuuri stands above him, tall, rippling thighs framing either side of Victor’s cheeks. He clips a leash into Victor’s collar and tugs him forward, the collar biting uncomfortably into the back of his neck until he leans forward, nuzzling along Yuuri’s inner thighs, brushing Yuuri’s limp cock with his muzzle.

Victor whimpers and whines, opening his lips, as he drags the cock around the exposed parts of his face. It twitches, hardening as he rubs his cheek against it, panting openly as he feels it stiffen and rise against his flushed skin, leaving little trails of precome along his cheeks. He bats his eyes up at Yuuri, still dragging the flushed cockhead over his cheek, his temple, wriggling his ass so that the tail wags behind him.

_Am I doing good? Are you proud of me?_

The muzzle is a cold metal, padded for Victor’s comfort, but rough against Yuuri’s sensitive cock. Victor whimpers as he tips his chin to avoid touching Yuuri’s cock with it, pressing his jaw between Yuuri’s legs, nuzzling up and down along his flushed, stiff cock, his balls. Yuuri’s foreskin drags up and down along his cheek as he rubs his face against his cock, memorizing the way the thick vein feels on his skin, the heat from Yuuri’s body, the slight scratch of Yuuri’s pubic hair. His tongue lolls open, wishing he could take Yuuri in his mouth, but he knows he can’t just yet. He’s not good enough, not ready for it.

His cheek is sticky with precum, his face rutting desperately on Yuuri’s cock, wanting so hard to make him come but knowing just how hard it is without the friction of his wet mouth and his tongue.

“Can I see your paws?” Yuuri croons, scratching Victor underneath his chin. Victor giggles and tosses his head back as Yuuri scratches him there, and he holds up his paws in front of his chest gleefully, tongue still out to the side.

Yuuri takes Victor’s hand in his, running his thumb along the exposed skin of his wrist.He brings Victor’s hand to his stiff cock, running his gloved hand along it, clenching Victor’s fingers tight over his cock.

Victor lets Yuuri lead him, even though he’s used his hands on him probably hundreds of times by now, lets Yuuri run his gloved hand up and down his cock. He wonders how the faux fur fabric feels against his hard cock, wonders if he’s going a good job. He bats his eyes up at Yuuri helplessly, and Yuuri smiles down at him, giving him a gentle pat, scratching behind his ears in the way that makes Victor feel so loved and cared for.

Yuuri pulls back and Victor continues to stroke him, bringing up his other hand to cup Yuuri’s balls. The hand in Victor’s hair stutters, but Victor doesn’t mind, watching desperately as Yuuri’s head tips back, his mouth open in a low gasp.

Victor brings the thumb of the paw up right beneath the base of Yuuri’s cock, wriggling his hips in an enticing way this time, hoping Yuuri notices the way his hole stretches around the plug of the tail. He presses against the base, around the cockhead, and Yuuri whimpers softly, cheek a soft pink. Yuuri bites his lip, murmuring more soft things to him in Japanese, washing over him like a blanket.

Victor feels some of the _bad_ dissipate, watching how his hands – paws – please Yuuri, watching his cockhead peek out of the foreskin more and more as he strokes him. He whimpers and edges his face closer, just barely managing to stop himself before the edge of the muzzle hits Yuuri’s cock, and he whines, sad and pitiful as he keeps stroking Yuuri.

“You’re doing so well,” Yuuri soothes him, cheeks pink. “You’re being such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Victor bats his eyes up at Yuuri hopefully. His lips are set in a pout, his tongue peeking out from between them in concentration. Yuuri’s breathing hitches as Victor twists his hands just so, runs his thumbs at the veiny nub of Yuuri’s cockhead, dribbles of precome falling onto the gloves. They always get dirty when they play like this, but Victor will take care to clean them later.

“Good boy,” Yuuri breathes again, “I’m close. Will you let me come on your face, puppy? It would make me very happy.”

Victor just looks up at him, whole body buzzing, head fuzzy as he sinks further, further into their play. He nuzzles into Yuuri’s thigh, nodding, whimpering, and begins to jerk Yuuri’s cock even faster. His muscles tense and bunch in his arms, but his body lies limp and soft against Yuuri’s leg.

Yuuri gasps, head tossed back, and the gentle hands in his hair tighten and _pull_ as he comes.

Victor lets his mouth fall open, stroking Yuuri’s twitching cock through his orgasm, letting thick ropes of come splatter on his cheeks and lips. It’s hot where it hits him, and he shudders, listening to the mewls coming from Yuuri’s throat and watching the jump and jolt of his abs as his breath comes in soft gasps and cries.

Victor’s head buzzes pleasantly with warmth, his tongue darting out to taste Yuuri’s come, and he settles back on his knees before Yuuri, wriggling his ass again. He feels warm and aroused, his cock half-hard between his legs, his haad feeling like it’s full of syrupy warmth as Yuuri opens his eyes slowly and scratches behind Victor’s ears again, calling him sweet things – dear one, sunshine, his good, sweet boy.

“You were so good,” Yuuri praises him, kissing his forehead. “You did such a good job, just with your hands. Do you feel like my good boy again?”

Victor’s head clears a little bit at that. He looks down, nervous, throat suddenly thick with shame.

“It’s alright, puppy,” Yuuri sighs, though Victor catches the nervous little wrinkle between his brows. He wants to explain himself, he wants to end the game and tell Yuuri everything he’s been thinking, been feeling since the competition ended, but – but he feels awful, he feels guilty and ashamed. Yuuri should be so happy right now, and here Victor is, pulling him away from the exhilaration of his Grand Prix Final Gold, and Yuuri told him he hasn’t been bad, but hasn’t he?

Victor whimpers. Yuuri cups his cheek, taking a damp cloth and carefully cleaning the come from his face, looking pensive.

“What should I have my good boy do next?” Yuuri murmurs, thinking. He looks Victor in the eye and says, carefully, “I think you need to be still for a while. Do you agree? I’ll put on a cup of tea, and read a little, and you have to be my good, quiet boy the whole time.” His lip curls into a smirk, and he continues, “My feet still ache from competing. Would you be good and let me rest them on you for a while?”

Victor’s eyes widen. That sounds _amazing_. He’s being a baby about Yuuri’s medal, but he can let Yuuri’s feet rest on him, he can soothe them for Yuuri, he can be good, still, he can-

He nods, gazing up at Yuuri, and Yuuri presses a quick kiss to Victor’s forehead. He rummages around in the open drawer one more time for a set of knee pads, which he lovingly velcros around Victor’s bare knees, and Victor nearly cries at how good Yuuri is to him.

“I’m going to go make some tea, alright baby? Go sit at the foot of the chair and wait for me.”

Victor nods, nearly dislodging his ears again, and crawls on hands and knees over to the base of the warm, cushy armchair in their room, wriggling his hips the whole time. He curls up on the plush carpet in their bedroom, looking at his hands in the gloves, cheek and hard plastic of the muzzle pressed against his arm. In the world of figure skating, things are always moving fast, fast, fast – who can do the most quads, who can be the best both technically and artistically. It’s easy to get left behind. Victor remembers the taped home videos his mother had of international competitions in the eighties and early nineties, how Victor was skating at that level before he was even ten years old.

Will that happen to him, one day?

He just needs to know he won’t be left behind. That Yuuri won’t leave him behind, now that he’s not-

The door creaks open as Yuuri pads silently back into the room, wearing a soft silk robe that shows the outline of his muscles, of his half-hard cock – that falls loosely over one shoulder, showing the marble cut of his collarbone. Victor wants to dip his tongue into the hollow where his collar meets his neck, taste his pulse up his throat.

Instead, he whines, making sad little pawing motions at the carpet, wriggling his hips at Yuuri. Yuuri takes a sip of his tea, taking his sweet time to come over to the chair, but he settles in comfortably and pulls out his kindle. Victor wonders what he’ll be reading this time, but he can’t ask. He doesn’t want to ask. Chris just retired last year, he has a very saucy memoir out – but Chris was still younger than Victor, and he’s already retired.

When Yuuri’s feet curl teasingly over Victor’s bare back, though, all of those painful thoughts go away. Yuuri kneads his lower back with his toes, presses the balls of his feet dangerously close to the curve of his ass. His toes slip down against Victor’s ass cheek, and Victor spreads his knees wide as the curve of Yuuri’s foot presses deep into his inner thigh. He whimpers, wriggling his ass at Yuuri, letting the feeling of Yuuri’s feet against his body brush away his bad thoughts, focusing only on the arousal in his belly and the slow slurp of Yuuri drinking his tea.

Yuuri’s toes press teasingly against Victor’s balls, slide up and down Victor’s stiffening cock. Victor stays perfectly still, just like he promised he would, letting out little whimpers and whines as Yuuri teases him with his foot. It feels so, so good, the way Yuuri’s feet fondle his cock, his balls, and he just sits there and lets Yuuri touch him. His cock presses against his belly, stiff and flushed, and if Yuuri isn’t careful he might-

Yuuri stops abruptly, and Victor swallows down his desperate whine. Yuuri gets to do whatever he wants. Yuuri knows best, how to take care of him. Victor moans at the press of Yuuri’s heels into his spine, and he pushes himself up onto his palms, feeling the throb of his hard cock between his legs. Yuuri sips his tea, and when Victor risks a peek up, he sees Yuuri engrossed in whatever he’s reading – though he doesn’t miss the smug curl of Yuuri’s lips.

Victor loses himself. His whole body becomes one buzzing line, broken only by the ache in his wrists, the burn in his thighs, and the hard weight of Yuuri’s heels in the firm muscle of his back. He feels settled like this, comfortable despite the strain, and he listens to the low ebb and flow of sound - the tap of Yuuri’s fingers against the kindle screen, the slow, liquid sip of tea, the slide of Yuuri’s feet on his back.

He’s being good like this. Useful. Occasionally, Yuuri will press his whole foot into Victor’s back, occasionally Yuuri will slide his toes up the backs of Victor’s thighs, will slide them along his cock when it starts to flag, and Victor will always whimper and bat his eyes up at Yuuri, but Yuuri doesn’t look up from his book.

Victor pouts up at him. He wants attention. His body aches with how much he wants Yuuri to get bored of the book and fuck him hard, but he needs to be patient, to be Yuuri’s good boy. He can do that for Yuuri, show him how much he loves him, even if he’s been bad at that the past few days. He’ll be perfect and patient for Yuuri, be his loyal footstool, and Yuuri will tell him when he should be ready.

The time ticks on. His whole body belongs to Yuuri, the strain in his joints and muscles just another way to show his love and devotion to the man who has given him everything, even if it’s hard for him to say it right now.

The time ticks on. Victor loves, loves, loves the way Yuuri’s feet feel on his back, a solid weight. He just sits there, on hands and knees, and breathes. He’ll be so, so, so patient.

His knees feel fine, though the padding takes away from the aesthetic a little bit. Yuuri insists he wears them. Yuuri always takes such good care of him. Yuuri-

“Vitya.”

Victor snaps his head up. Yuuri is looking down at him, eyes soft and warm. Victor doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he feels a little bit better, a little bit lighter now. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, and he arches his back so his ass tilts up, a gentle pat from Yuuri the only communication he needs to know its okay to move.

His legs are stiff, and he stretches one out behind him on hands and knees, letting his own muscles ripple even as his knees send shockwaves of pain through his leg as sensation slowly returns to him. He stretches one, then the other, and a gentle nudge from Yuuri is all he needs to roll onto his back, hands up in front of his chest, eyes sparkling.

“Good boy,” Yuuri croons, running his fingers up Victor’s belly. “Good, good boy. You did such a good job, you were such a good little rest for my sore feet.”

Victor beams, wriggling his hips again, and Yuuri rubs his tummy firmly so that Victor brings his knees up and out, exposing his cock. Yuuri presses a kiss to Victor’s forehead, and he trails his hand further down Victor’s tummy, below his navel, before finally rubbing along Victor’s hard cock. He dips his hands below that, between Victor’s cheeks, and slips his fingers beneath Victor’s red, swollen hole along with the plug, his entrance slick with lube and warm and inviting.

“You’ve done so well for me,” Yuuri murmurs, lips hot right by Victor’s cheek. “You’ve been such a good puppy. Using your hands on my cock, being a little puppy footstool. You’re so good, so obedient.”

Victor swallows. His heart swells at the praise, and he stays perfectly still, Yuuri’s fingers still playing in his slick hole with the plug.

“Do you want me to reward you?” Yuuri coos, rubbing Victor’s tummy with his other hand, “Do you? For being such a good, patient boy?”

Victor’s eyes fill with tears. He wants that more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Aw, getting emotional,” Yuuri murmurs, kissing his forehead again softly, once, twice, three times. The furrow of worry creases between his brow again. “Vitya, color?”

“Green,” Victor rasps out, the sound ugly and grating in his ears when he hears it. He pouts, and Yuuri kisses his throat.

“Sorry for making you use words, baby,” Yuuri teases. He suckles against the hollow of Victor’s throat, his lips warm and soft and teasing. “Will you let me take the plug out and fuck you properly, like a good puppy deserves?”

Victor nods, stretching and contracting his legs one more time, then eagerly flipping back over so he’s on his knees again, his ass wriggling in Yuuri’s direction. He wants to plead, to beg, but he can’t break the play, so he just whimpers and whines and ruts his ass against Yuuri’s naked cock.

Yuuri pulls the tail out with a wet pop, and Victor whimpers at the emptiness, his hole clenching on nothing, desperate to be filled. Yuuri’s fingers prod at his wet, red rim, just barely dipping in, and Victor whines and whimpers, desperately rutting his hole against Yuuri’s fingers.

When Yuuri’s cock presses, hard and insistent, at Victor’s hole, he nearly sobs with relief. Yuuri’s hands clench his hips, and Yuuri murmurs, in a low, dangerously sultry voice, “Stay.”

Victor does. He stops wriggling, stops rutting. His whole body becomes one taut, stiff line, Yuuri’s cock pressed right against his hole.

“Good boy,” Yuuri breathes, and he pushes in fully in one hard, thick thrust.

Victor cries out, asshole clenching on Yuuri’s stiff cock, sucking him deeper and deeper in. He pants, letting his tongue loll out, letting out little yips and whines as Yuuri grips his hips and fucks him _hard_.

Oh, this feels wonderful. He’s loose enough from before, with the plug, that the slight stretch of Yuuri sliding into him with little prep is just a delightful little burn, a heavy fullness deep inside of him. Yuuri slams into him, his hole making lewd, wet sounds as it clenches around Yuuri’s cock, his rim glistening with lube and come, cherry red from being plugged and then fucked.

“Good boy,” Yuuri gasps, fingers clenched bruisingly into Victor’s hips, “G-good boy. I want to hear you, hear your little puppy moans and yips.”

Victor whimpers. He makes strained, pitiful sounds, low mewls and whimpers in the back of his throat. Yuuri told him to stay, so he stays, lets Yuuri grip his hips and piston his cock deep inside of him, thick and rough against his sensitive walls.

Yuuri knows his body so well. His cock slides in and out of Victor, and without breaking stride Yuuri shifts his hips just so, his cock hitting that spot inside Victor that drives him wild. Victor cries out, sinking down onto his forearms, gasping and panting like Yuuri wants him too. Yuuri’s cock hits his prostate again and again, over and over, head on with his cock until Victor’s cock is hard and leaking precum against his belly. When it starts to hurt, being hit like that, and Victor’s shoulders tense and he makes a low whining sound, Yuuri shifts again so his cockhead drags along Victor’s prostate with each thrust instead of ramming against it, drawing more desperate gasps and whines from his throat.

“Let me hear you more, puppy,” Yuuri breathes, leaning over Victor so they’re chest to chest. “Can you howl for me?”

He grabs Victor’s leash and yanks on it, snapping Victor’s head up, his cock sliding with torturous accuracy against Victor’s prostate. Then, Yuuri grabs Victor’s cock with his other hand and begins to pump furiously, teeth biting down at the nape of Victor’s neck.

Victor howls, just like Yuuri asked him to. He makes loud, wanton cries, saliva dripping down his chin and into the muzzle, the sound echoing along with the slick slap of Yuuri’s hips against his.

“Good boy,” Yuuri gasps, tugging again on the leash. It doesn’t choke Victor, they designed it specifically so it wouldn’t hurt him, but the collar cuts a wonderful pressure against his skin as Yuuri forces Victor’s head this way and that, feeling the bite of Yuuri’s teeth, the warmth of Yuuri’s skin, Yuuri all around him. “Good boy, good Vitya. Oh I’m c-close, can I come inside you, hm, puppy? Will you be a good boy and let me come inside?”

Victor nods, sobbing with pleasure, Yuuri’s cock stroking his prostate again and again until he sees stars, Yuuri’s skillful hands around his cock making his legs wobble, weak and jelly-like as Yuuri fucks him.

 _Please,_ he wants to say, _Please, come inside, breed me like I deserve-_

“I’m coming,” Yuuri gasps, breath hot and wet against the nape of Victor’s neck, “I’m coming, oh g-god, Vitya, good boy, taking me in like this, my good, precious puppy, so good, always so good for me-”

Victor howls again, like he knows Yuuri likes, Yuuri rutting furiously inside of him, and he feels the hot, thick come spurting out of Yuuri’s cock and coating his walls, coating his insides. That’s enough for his own orgasm to build, tight as a rubber band, pleasure mounting as Yuuri continues to stroke his prostate with his cock-

And he wails as he comes, Yuuri snapping his head upright with the leash, Yuuri stroking his cock with firm, practiced stroke, milking him through his orgasm until he’s moaning and shaking and whimpering.

Victor collapses, boneless, and Yuuri flops on top of him, panting hard in his ear. The muzzle cuts uncomfortably into Victor’s face, but he doesn’t want to move, not when Yuuri’s weight is solid and warm on top of him.

After a moment, Yuuri pushes himself up with a groan, unbuckling the muzzle first. Victor shakes his head, panting, groaning with effort as his aching legs crackle and pop as he stretches them out.

“Not as young as I once was,” he rasps, while Yuuri holds a mug up to his lips for him to sip. Victor stretches again and takes a drink gratefully, beaming up at Yuuri.

Yuuri smiles, but there’s still that crease between his brows, and Victor’s face falls.

“Victor,” Yuuri says, “Talk to me?”

Victor pauses for a moment. Suddenly, in the afterglow of their play, the emotions come back full force. He picks at the gloves, taking his time tugging them off, and he pulls the ears away from his sweaty scalp.

He says, softly, “I’m a bad husband.”

Yuuri’s mouth presses into a thin, disappointed line. “Victor,” he cajoles, coming to wrap his arms around him, warm and soft.

Victor takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, and says, “I think I took getting fourth place harder than I expected to.”

Yuuri lets out a shaky, relieved laugh. “That’s it?”

Victor’s head snaps up. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?”

Yuuri hides his head in his hands, laughing, saying, “I was so worried, Vitya, that it was something serious that – that you were injured, or worse-”

“No!” Victor gasps out, “No, I’d tell you that, I’d – but Yuuri, I’ve been awful! I’m your coach, I’m your _husband_ , you won your first ever gold at a Grand Prix Final, and I’m just being awful and selfish for thinking that I’m getting old and can’t keep up and, and...”

He trails off. There’s a lump in his throat, and his eyes burn as tears well up in them.

Yuuri lets out a slow, shaky laugh, nuzzling in close into Victor’s neck.

“You’re my coach, you’re my husband,” Yuuri murmurs, “But you’re also a five time Grand Prix Final gold medalist. You’re a star athlete. You wouldn’t have gotten to where you are, you wouldn’t be the Vitya that I love, if you didn’t care about this sport with your whole heart.”

“I wanted you to surpass me,” Victor whispers. “I really gave it my all, but your program was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Now that you have, though, I’m… I’m worried you’ll leave me behind.” He covers his face with his hands. “And I hate that I can’t just be happy for you. I am happy for you, of course I am, but I keep having these stupid, sad thoughts, and I feel awful about them.”

“You don’t need to feel awful about having negative thoughts, worrying about this kind of thing,” Yuuri says, “That’s my job.”

Victor narrows his eyes at him.

“I’m kidding!” Yuuri assures him with an awkward, not entirely believable laugh, “Really though, Victor, you’re not bad for thinking this.”

“Yes I am,” Victor pouts, “Stupid, selfish, whiny...”

Yuuri hums softly, carding his fingers through Victor’s sweaty hair. “Hey,” he murmurs, “Watch it, that’s my husband you’re talking about.”

Victor snorts, lips forming a pout, and he whimpers as he snuggles in closer to Yuuri. “Your husband is quickly becoming a has-been, I think.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri scolds, “Do you remember what I told you on that beach in Hasetsu?”

Victor groans. He hides his head in his hands, mumbling, “Oh no, Yuuri-”

“Oh yes,” Yuuri says triumphantly, “C’mon Victor, I know you remember.” He brings in close to Victor’s ear, murmuring sensuously, “You can tell me, can’t you puppy? My good boy?”

“Cruel,” Victor whines, burying his face in Yuuri’s chest, “Using that voice on me.” He pouts up at Yuuri, who just smiles innocently down at him. Victor huffs and says, “You told me you just wanted me to be, well… Me.”

Yuuri nods. He kisses Victor’s temple, rubbing his back. “And I still mean it. Be disappointed you didn’t win gold, I completely understand. I uh, spent most of my senior career feeling that way. But Vitya, I’ll always love you, no matter what happens with your skating, no matter what happens with you, even if you go completely bald.”

“Yuuri,” Victor wails, “I’m _emotionally vulnerable_ and you talk about my receding hairline-”

“Your hairline is beautiful,” Yuuri teases, stifling a snort. He pushes back Victor’s fringe of silver hair to kiss his forehead, laughing as Victor wriggles and whines in irritation.

There’s silence for a moment, Yuuri giggling, Victor huffing – and Victor looks up at him, eyes wide and deeply vulnerable.

“I really am proud of you,” Victor whispers. “For winning gold this year. I always knew you could do it.”

Yuuri tilts up Victor’s chin to kiss him on the lips, tasting sweat and the wine they had with dinner on his tongue.

“Thank you,” Yuuri breathes against his lips. “For coaching me. I love all you do for me, but mostly I just love _you_ , no matter what place you get.”

Victor nods. He rests his cheek on Yuuri’s chest, listening to Yuuri’s thrumming heartbeat go thump-thump in his ear, soothing and soft. It’s okay. Yuuri isn’t mad. Yuuri still loves him.

Yuuri takes care of him, and Victor is so, so grateful for that.

**Author's Note:**

> sflgjhsldfjkgh slowly rebuilding my smutty portfolio.


End file.
